


the study of pathology

by crescenteluce



Series: you remember me (and i'll remember you) [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 15:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenteluce/pseuds/crescenteluce
Summary: The thing about hooking up with your childhood love is, sure, of course, the thing about it is that it’s great, confetti all around, but the other thing about it is, well, it doesn’t actually fix any of your problems.Or wait, that’s not entirely true, Eddie doesn’t have to spend hours every day replaying every twitch of Richie’s hands in his mind goingbut what does it meanlike some Austen protagonist, so that’s some mental load cleared right up there, but he’s still a traumatized, neurotic little hypochondriac and Richie’s dick, nice as it is, can only do so much.





	the study of pathology

E.coli (_escherichia coli_) is a type of bacteria that normally lives in your intestines. Most types of E.coli are harmless, but some harmful strains can be found in contaminated food or fouled water. Symptoms of these harmful strands are:

  * Diarrhoea
  * Abdominal pain
  * Fever
  * Do you have a fever right now?
  * Your forehead is a little sweaty, you probably have a fever

Effects can include:

  * Death
  * Certain death
  * Probably after vomiting yourself inside out and shitting your guts out
  * Not a great way to go
  * Oh yeah, it also makes you completely unfuckable
  * That’s not a common thing, that’s just you

* * *

Eddie wakes up gasping, nightmares of Pennywise, gastrointestinal discomfort and death by diarrhoea swirling around in his head, tumbling over each other with a loud, thumping undertone of _ Danger! Danger! Danger! _setting the background music. He’s gotten good, well, not good, but better, at repressing these thoughts since getting back from Derry, but at night, his mind is unguarded and trauma, worries and anxiety have their chance to run wild together, shaking him awake with a tight knot in his stomach he can only seem to untangle by keeping his hands busy, breathing in the comforting fumes of Windex as he’s wiping the bathroom mirror. Right now, with nothing but an LA breeze coming in from the bedroom window that carries the faint scent of gasoline, the gasping is turning to coughing and the coughing is turning to wheezing. His breath is coming in short, uneven gasps and before he knows it, Richie’s snapped on a light, grabbing his glasses off the nightstand.

‘Whas- Wha-‘ He squints just as Eddie can feel himself going red, unable to stop hyperventilating. ‘Holy fuck, Eddie, are you having a fucking heart attack?’

‘No, dumbass.’ Eddie manages to wheeze out. ‘I’m- I-... Pa-Pa-... _ Fuck_! Panic attack!’ 

‘Do I need to call 911?’ Richie shrieks, looking close to hyperventilating himself. 

‘No!’ Eddie shouts. ‘Ju-just-, _ fuck_!’ 

He reaches for Richie’s wrist in a bruising grip and forces himself to relax his breathing. Within a few minutes, he manages to get the gasping under control, slowly able to draw in more air, Richie staring at him in a terrified way the entire time.

‘Water.’ He manages to croak out and Richie scrambles out of bed into the adjoining bathroom, coming back with a glass. 

‘Jesus, Eds, are you okay?’ He asks when Eddie’s measured out a few long, slow breaths, trying to get his heart rate back on the charts. 

‘I’m fine.’ Eddie responds shortly, trying to get his hands to stop shaking enough to bring the glass to his mouth. Silently, Richie takes the glass from him and brings it to his lips. ‘Used to get these a lot more.’ 

‘I didn’t know.’ Richie says in a small voice. ‘Did you ever get one here?’ 

Eddie turns and looks at him. Richie’s clearly shaken, his free hand clenching and unclenching nervously. Eddie grabs it and squeezes it comfortingly. ‘Yeah, couple times. First night, you never wondered why I was scrubbing glasses at two in the morning?’ 

‘I honestly thought it was like, a hobby.’ Richie answers, too quickly and honestly for it to be a joke and Eddie snorts. 

‘No, dumbass, I couldn’t get back to sleep.’ 

‘Huh.’ Richie says and then, thoughtfully. ‘You wanna play a video game now too? Does that help?’ 

‘Nah.’ Eddie says. He suddenly feels exhausted. He wants to lie down and count his breaths out until he's certain he won't start hyperventilating again so he bullies Richie on his side and slides against his chest, folding his ridiculously long arms around himself. ‘I want you to hold my hand until I fall asleep.’ 

‘That I can do.’ Richie answers, sliding a knee between Eddie’s and then yawning directly into his ear. 

‘Ew, dude!’

‘Sorry, sorry!’ Richie pulls him closer and kisses the top of his head. ‘You good or you wanna talk?’ 

‘I’m good.’ Eddie says. It’s not true, but talking about it at 4 a.m. doesn’t seem like a great idea. The thing about hooking up with your childhood love is, sure, of course, the thing about it is that it’s great, confetti all around, but the other thing about it is, well, it doesn’t actually fix any of your problems. Or wait, that’s not entirely true, Eddie doesn’t have to spend hours every day replaying every twitch of Richie’s hands in his mind going _ but what does it mean _ like some Austen protagonist, so that’s some mental load cleared right up there, but he’s still a traumatised, neurotic little hypochondriac and Richie’s dick, nice as it is, can only do so much.

The thing between them is brand new, barely two days old and they’ve been holed up in Richie’s house for almost the entire time, only leaving for meals before running home again to fall back into bed, the couch, or on one memorable occasion, onto Richie’s largely unused writing desk. They haven’t progressed beyond making out and hand jobs and Eddie is glad that Richie isn't pushing for more, but at the same time, he's also worried about why Richie isn't pushing for more. He's wondering if Richie is regretting hooking up with him, if somewhere hiding behind between the constant thoughtless touching and the whispered confessions, there's also quiet defeat in Richie's mind, questions about why he had to shack up with frigid little Eddie, who worries about germs and bodily fluids and sweat. 

It's not that Eddie hasn't thought about fucking Richie. He's thought about little else ever since he came to LA, wondering how Richie’s hands will feel on the back of his neck or at the inside of his thighs or how he would feel being blanketed by Richie’s body on top of him, covering him entirely. He's had sex before, but never really enjoyed it, always a small distaste in the back of his mind at the slipperiness of his body, embarrassment about the way his chest would flush red and his breath would turn laboured. Weirdly enough, Eddie is not so much afraid of having sex, it's more that he's afraid of being afraid.

Logically, he knows that if he doesn't mind putting his tongue in Richie's mouth and his naked body on Richie's as they're jerking each other off, he probably won't mind doing the same with a little more involvement, but every time he tries to act upon it, his mind shuts down. What if you don't like it, the voice in his head hisses, and Richie will accept it, because he's a good man and then you'll have left your loveless relationship only to trap him in a loveless relationship.

He knows, logically, that if he tries it, he'll like it. Slow and easy, maybe, the first time, the two of them laughing, bumping noses until the laughing turns into gasps. He's never loved anyone like this, sure of it like a fact. The moon circles the earth, the earth moves around the sun and on that little blue dot in infinite space, Eddie Kaspbrak will love Richie Tozier until the heat death of the universe. But. It's like there's a wall in his mind, a ladder posted against it, clearly visible, and every time he reaches out, it's just beyond his fingertips.

A dog barks next door, harshly interrupting his thoughts. Behind him, he feels Richie stir in the way that means he’s almost entirely asleep. He pulls lightly at Richie’s arm and instantaneously, Richie hugs him a little tighter. The weight of Richie’s arm over his waist, crossing his chest and holding his hand is comforting, as is the line of his body behind Eddie’s, warm and safe. He thinks about Richie, in the morning, annoyingly chipper as Eddie’s still stumbling around half asleep. He thinks about the first time he kissed Richie, the look on his face only visible for a split second, open, vulnerable, desperate. The thoughts are comforting and Eddie feels his body relaxing muscles he didn’t know he was holding taut. Slowly but surely, he slips into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next day, Eddie wakes up in stages, dozing off once again before he's truly conscious and when he finally turns around, he sees Richie’s already awake face, looking at him contemplatively. 

‘What?’ He says through a yawn, stretching muscles that always feel stiff the day after a bad night. 

‘Nothing.’ Richie says and then bends forward to give him a big, smacking kiss on the top of his head, after which Eddie halfheartedly rubs his hair. Richie slips out of bed to go brush his teeth and then returns, pouncing on top of Eddie, who falls back with a laugh. 

‘Gimme a kiss, Eds, my dear.’ Richie says and Eddie ducks his head. ‘I haven’t brushed my teeth, you animal.’

‘Don’t care.’ Richie does a Voice at him while trying to reach his face. ‘I’d kiss you if all your teeth were falling out. Not letting a lil’ morning breath stop me, what is this, amateur hour?’ 

Eddie gives up and lets Richie track a line from his jaw to his mouth, mhm-ing contently when their lips connect. For a moment, Eddie lets his hands sneak under Richie’s shirt and considers dragging Richie with him into the shower, but then Richie’s stomach makes an unholy sound and they break apart to look down at it suspiciously. 

‘I need some fuel,’ Richie says, regretfully, and kisses Eddie on the nose before rolling off him to get changed. ‘But after that, we’re getting back to this, you hear me? Don’t think I don’t know where those wandering hands were headed, Eds.’ 

‘No dice, old sport.’ Eddie says, opening the closet he officially moved his clothes in yesterday morning. ‘Eating is cheating. Now you gotta seduce me all over again.’

‘Oh, so the visual of the teeth falling out was working? Noted.’ Richie shouts back, almost waist deep in a pile of increasingly ugly button downs and Eddie pulls a face that immediately softens as he watches the muscles in Richie’s naked back move as he’s doing what appears to be a sniff test on a light blue shirt with a bee pattern. It’s truly horrifying, he thinks to himself, the things he finds endearing about Richie, that would’ve driven him up the fucking wall if anyone else dared to think about it in a 500 yard perimeter around him. Yesterday, he watched Richie notice he had chilli sauce on his arm, and spend a solid thirty seconds licking it off instead of getting a wet towel, before crawling into Richie’s lap, telling him ‘God, that’s disgusting’ and kissing him. Eddie shakes his head and pulls on a dark blue polo, wondering if he’s going off the deep end and whether he minds all that much. 

When they get back from breakfast, Richie prepares him a cup of coffee and makes him sit down at the kitchen island, a pained look on his face. 

‘Eddie, we should-’ He breaks himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose as Eddie sips his coffee to hide the fact that he’s trying not to laugh at Richie. 

‘Okay, I think we…? I mean, we probably should-’ Richie is wincing and Eddie puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

‘Spit it out, Rich.’ 

‘I can’t believe I, of all people, have to say this.’ Richie tells him miserably. ‘Should we… Ugh, okay, we should probably talk about all this, right?’

‘All this?’ Eddie asks innocently and Richie scowls at him. 

‘About the fact that you came so hard you almost hit the ceiling when I implied you were a brazen hussy, yeah.’ 

Eddie chokes on his coffee and Richie snorts. Touché.

‘Okay.’ Eddie says after he’s wiped coffee off his chin. ‘What do you want to talk about specifically?’ 

‘I was kind of hoping you’d take over at this point.’ Richie says. ‘I have so little experience talking about my emotions that I’m not sure that part of my brain developed properly.’ 

‘No part of your brain developed properly.’ Eddie tells him and Richie grins back, somehow always delighted to be insulted by Eddie. ‘But, okay, the most important part is, well, I love you.’ 

Richie completely lights up and grins at him, big and honest.There’s nothing Eddie can do but smile back and for a second, they’re just sitting there, smiling at each other like crazy people until Richie clears his throat.

‘Well, obviously, I love you too.’ He takes Eddie’s hand and laces their fingers together. ‘But I was wondering whether, you’re uh, well, comfortable with everything we’re doing.’ 

'Everything we're doing as in...?' Eddie asks and Richie makes a very crude gesture for a second, before quickly putting his hands down and clearing his throat. 

'I mean, well, sexually.' 

'Yeah, I figured with the-' Eddie mimics the gesture, but Richie keeps looking at him insistently, so Eddie swallows and nods, a sense of relief flickering over Richie’s face. 

‘Because, well, my teenage fantasies were kind of limited by, well, practical knowledge of how two people, like, the process-‘

‘Yes, we were both nerdy virgins.’ Eddie interrupts him. 

‘Exactly.’ Richie says. ‘And I thought that maybe, you’d, like, with all the bodily fluids and everything… I wanted to talk about it earlier, but tonight kind of, well, I think it’s been a little overdue? I guess what I’m asking is if you’re okay with all this or if you want to like, discuss it.’ 

Richie’s turned a little red, but powers through and Eddie feels a great flood of affection for him. They’ve talked about it a little, the repression and the guilt Richie’s felt over the years and how he avoided talking about it, joking and deflecting when people would ask him about his love life. He knows this is hard for Richie, and in return, he tries to form words around the thoughts and fears in his head for the first time since he can remember.

‘I’m fine with everything so far.’ He says, honestly. ‘And I want to, like, everything else, but I don’t…’ 

He looks down at their joined hands and takes a deep breath.

‘I want to.’ Richie squeezes his hand encouragingly. ‘But I think it’ll take some time to get everything in my head…. Well, untangled, I think? It’s not just the…. I mean, it’s connected, I think, to the stuff with the cleaning and the… But I want to, I really want to.’

‘I understand.’ Richie says gently. ‘Take all the time you need.’

And then, when Eddie looks at him again, he grins. ‘No rush, Eds, I could die a happy man if all I ever got was your hand on my dick for the rest of my life.’

‘Such a way with words you have.’ Eddie says dryly, but also feeling light, unburdened somehow. ‘Truly, Danielle Steel who?’ 

‘You love it.’ Richie says and there’s a thread of wonder underneath his confident tone. 

‘I do.’ Eddie says, regretfully, as Richie pulls him in. ‘God help me, I do.’ 

Later that afternoon, Richie has fallen asleep on the couch, notepad on his legs dangerously tipping towards the edge. The dog next door barks again and Richie shifts in his sleep, notepad almost flying to the floor. Eddie pushes it back and looks at it, but Richie’s chicken scrawl is nearly illegible. There’s bits and pieces written all over the page, some underlined or circled, others connected with big arrows. He looks at Richie’s face and there’s a wave of love for Richie and his big, gentle heart washing over him so strong that it leads him to his laptop and then, after hitting the first search result, gives him the ability to pick up his phone and dial a number. 

‘Hello, is this dr. Ito’s office?’ He says softly, not wanting to wake Richie. ‘My name is Eddie Kaspbrak, I’d like to make a therapy appointment.’

* * *

Salmonella infection (salmonellosis) is a common bacterial disease that affects the intestinal tract. Salmonella bacteria typically live in animal and human intestines and are shed through feces. Humans become infected most frequently through contaminated water or food. Typically, people with salmonella infection have no symptoms. Others develop the following reactions:

  * Abdominal cramps
  * Fever
  * Diarrhoea
  * That's pretty much a given at this point 
  * It's always diarrhoea and a fever, pretty boring if you ask me

Effects of a salmonella infection can include:

  * Death again? 
  * No? Not usually? 
  * I mean, maybe in your case 
  * You have a weak constitution
  * Can't rule it out
  * I'm putting it back on the list, don't talk back to me
  * Here I go: Death

* * *

Two weeks later, dr. Ito, a soft spoken, graying man with sharp eyes behind his rimless glasses has him on a steady diet of twice-weekly appointments, daily meditation and the basics of cognitive behavioral therapy, supplemented with the advice to continue his daily runs and get a solid eight hours of sleep every night. Eddie feels hopeful, not quite having a handle on things yet, but slowly discovering the edges of his harmful thought patterns, learning the words he has to speak to himself when a treacherous voice in the back of his head hisses to him about soft-boiled eggs and inexpertly cleaned cups. He knows he has a long way to go, but for the first time in ages, he thinks he’s heading towards something instead of running away from it. As he’s contemplating after finishing meditation, the dog next door is whining pitifully and a frown line appears between Richie’s eyes, who’s sitting at the kitchen island. 

‘I never see anyone walking that dog.’ He says and then looks up. ‘Oh god, Eds, are you trying to kill me?’ 

‘Hmm?’ Eddie says, reaching for the coffee. Dr. Ito also recommended limiting his caffeine intake, but Eddie negotiated him down to no more coffee after 3 p.m. 

‘You can’t walk around here in those tight shirts when I have to leave for a meeting, Eds.’ Richie tells him seriously. ‘I’ll arrive foaming at the mouth and they’ll have to put me down because they think I have rabies.’ 

‘I’ll miss you dearly.’ Eddie tells him, equally seriously, as he sits down. After floating the idea for a couple of weeks, Richie’s decided he wants to start writing again. A little intimidated by immediately writing 1.5 hours of standup, he decided to pull some strings and is now guest writing three days a week on a popular Netflix cartoon for at least two more months. ‘But it’ll hurt a little less if you leave me this house, just a thought.’

‘Oh, yeah, I added you to my will already.’ Richie responds as he’s shoving loose papers in a backpack and Eddie almost sprays his coffee over the entire kitchen island. 

‘You _ what _?’ He splutters and Richie gives him an odd look. 

‘Who else am I going to leave it to? Bev and Ben have like, three houses already, so it’d make it an nice, even quartet, but I’d feel bad about leaving you homeless.’ 

Eddie’s still looking at Richie with big eyes as the dog barks again and Richie throws a concerned glance towards the door. ‘Wish someone decent would adopt that dog.’ He mutters, before looking at Eddie again. 

‘You okay?’ 

‘You added me to your will!’ Eddie says, his hands coming up to gesture wildly. ‘You _ added me _ to your _ will_!’ 

‘Yeah, but don’t worry about it, Eds. I’m unkillable, like a cockroach.’ He kisses Eddie and regretfully pulls away just as Eddie starts to melt into it. ‘We’ll talk about it when I get home, okay? Don’t wear that shirt, or I’ll lose any and all brain cells dedicated to boring administrative stuff immediately.’ 

‘Sure.’ Eddie says, still a little stunned. ‘See you later.’ 

‘Love ya, Eds.’ Richie calls out and then the door slams shut and Eddie’s left at the kitchen island in absolute silence. He slams back the rest of his coffee and tries to comprehend what exactly just happened as the dog barks again and he scowls at the door. The restlessness inside him turns outward, into irritation. Before he knows it, he's up, pulling on his coat and getting his keys. He has no idea how to handle Richie and the reckless way he seems to throw himself into their brand new relationship, but he is a top notch yeller and God help him, he will no longer have Richie make sad eyes at the door, if it's the last thing he does. 

* * *

Six hours later, the front door opens and Eddie frantically yells ‘I can explain!’ a fraction of a second before Richie almost falls over as twenty pounds of Beagle hits him square in the knees. 

‘Uh.’ Richie says. ‘Is this the dog from next door?’ 

The Beagle is wagging her tail so excitedly her entire butt is swaying with it an Richie crouches down to pet her and talk to her in a high voice.

‘Yes.’ Eddie yells, and he feels his eyes are wide, speeding past crazy-man territory into straight-up lunatic. ‘I could see the dog thing was bothering you so I went over there to scream at them for not taking better care of their dog. But then this woman opened the door and her husband and her brother died in a car wreck a month ago and she got her brother's dog but her son just went off to college and the life insurance money isn’t coming through so she’s pulling double shifts at the hospital for tuition and she’s allergic to the dog but she hasn’t found a place to rehome her yet and I offered to help her find scholarships but then the dog looked me in the eye and before I knew it I-‘

‘Eds, Eds, please.’ Richie gets up and puts two hands on his face and squeezes his cheeks until he’s unable to continue talking. ‘I need you to chill. Take five, do some breathing exercises.’ 

He releases Eddie’s face and Eddie takes three deep, slow breaths before he can feel his heart rate going down. When he looks up, Richie’s crouched in front of the dog again, cooing at her while she’s licking his hand. 

‘So, Spaghetti, cut the shit and tell it to me straight, my man.’ Richie says, scratching the Beagle between her ears. ‘Do we, or do we not have a dog?’

‘We might.’ Eddie says weakly, as the dog flops down on the floor and exposes her belly to Richie, who makes a delighted noise and starts stroking her with two hands. ‘I guess we could look at rehoming options, or a shelter.’ 

‘You’re a fancy lady, aren’t you.’ Richie coos at the dog and she lets her tongue loll out of her mouth in response. ‘I can see it in your eyes, you'd do terrible in dog prison.’ 

He gets up and walks over to Eddie to take both of his hands. ‘This dog needs you, Eds.’ He says, seriously. ‘She’s psychic and I could sense her thoughts - she told me she needs a neurotic man in her life to brush her dog teeth every night.’ 

‘There’s going to be so much drool on the floors.’ Eddie moans weakly, letting himself be pulled into a hug by Richie. 

‘Puddles of drool.’ Richie agrees happily. The dog gets up and circles their legs, before rubbing herself against Eddie’s ankles. 

* * *

‘She’s _ so cute _.’ Bev moans when Eddie moves the camera to Peanut, dozing in his lap. Richie had taken a picture of Eddie and Peanut sleeping on the couch and sent it to the group chat with an accompanying text _this is Peanut, delivery went nice and easy, mother and child are resting_ and Eddie’s phone had exploded with texts, waking him up so violently he almost dumped Peanut unceremoniously on the floor before he could get a hold of his phone, ringing with video chat requests. At the moment, Bev and Ben are squeezed into one corner of his screen, while Mike is cooing at Peanut from the other corner and a text from Bill appears that says _Will be over tonight to meet ur daughter!! Motherhood suits u Eddie - u look glowing!!_.

‘How did you come up with Peanut?’ Mike asks and Eddie throws a mean look at Richie, who finally decided on Peanut after insisting that her full name should be Pennywise the Dancing Clown until Eddie had threatened to stuff a handful of Peanut’s kibble down his throat. 

‘I immediately knew her name was meant to be.’ Richie says solemnly, leaning over the back of the couch to get into view. Eddie pokes him in the side and he doubles over, making Peanut open her eyes sleepily. 

‘She’s adorable.’ Ben says, and then perks up. ‘Hey, did we tell you already? Vegas weekend, first weekend next month, put it in your calendar and tell Bill when he comes over.’ 

‘Sure,’ Mike says and Eddie looks over at Richie, who nods. 

‘Any special occasion?’ He asks and Bev shrugs.

‘We opened a joint bank account-party.’ She suggests.

‘We bought our first roasting pan together-party.’ Ben adds, looking at her sideways with a dopey smile on his face. 

‘My divorce got finalised-party.’ Bev adds and then ‘Hey, Eddie, I meant to ask you, how did you manage to get divorced in three weeks?’

‘Risk-analyst.’ Eddie shrugs and Richie whoops, sliding on the couch. ‘His prenup was tight as hell, baby. Much like his a-‘ Bev and Mike disconnect the call at the same time and Richie frowns at the phone. 

‘Hey, mean.’ 

‘Deserved, though.’ Eddie says, pulling Richie's head against his chest. ‘You were gonna say something nasty, stop involving our friends in our sex life.’ 

‘I'm finally having regular sex after a lifetime of filthy bathroom hookups.' Richie pouts at him. 'Having sex in a bed is big personal growth for me.' 

'And I'm very proud of you.' Eddie pats him on the knee as Peanut drowsily moves over to Richie’s lap. 'But if you keep being nasty to our friends you're not going to have it for very much longer.'

'Ugh, _ fine _.' Richie says, carefully, without disturbing Peanut, situating himself with his feet over the armrest, head resting in Eddie’s lap. ‘But you have to help me to find another way to make them believe I’m hot and sexy instead of old.’ 

‘You are hot.’ Eddie says and leans down to press a kiss on his nose. ‘But you’re kind of old too.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Richie says, as Eddie mindlessly starts scratching his head. ‘What time is Bill coming over?’

‘Somewhere after eight.’ Eddie says. ‘You wanna play a video game? Changing the sheets can wait a few hours.’ 

‘I already did that this morning.’ Richie mutters, turning his head sideways to bury his forehead against Eddie’s sweater. ‘Now I want to take an old man afternoon nap on your lap with our dog.’ 

Part of Eddie wants to make a joke, but when he looks down, it dies in his throat. This is what happiness feels like, he supposes. He expected it to be a bigger feeling, but it’s kind of a quiet affair. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with it, but then he figures, he can take a nap and yell at Richie for not washing his hands before helping with the cooking while Richie calls him a dictator. Peanut shifts in her sleep and Richie’s hand reaches out unconsciously to keep her from sliding off his lap. Eddie grins and closes his eyes. It’s as good a start as any. 

* * *

About two weeks after Peanut joins their household, Eddie wakes up and knows it’s going to be a bad day. His hands are itching as soon as he gets out of bed and no amount of spot cleaning is getting rid of it. Richie is locked away in his office, on the phone with Bill, a more or less weekly affair where they get each others input on writing projects and Eddie wants to walk in and tell Richie _ please hold my hands and don’t let me touch another wet wipe for at least 24 hours _, but something is keeping him away. Well, not something, he knows the issue and the issue is that he’s a stubborn bastard that hates being told things and accepting help. Dr. Ito had said something in that vein to him earlier in the week, only nicer and in a very professional way. Eddie can hear Richie walking around upstairs, knows that he’ll probably start cruising through the entire house soon, unable to stay still while talking and sighs. Not really in the mood to face anyone, he gets Peanut’s leash and yells ‘I’m going to walk the dog!’, and doesn’t wait for an answer. 

It’s a nice day out, and Peanut trots happily on the sidewalk, sniffing every other hedge and lamp post. Eddie follows her, face like thunder and getting angrier by the second. Another dog yaps at Peanut and Eddie explodes. 

‘Get your fucking beast away from my dog, asshole!’ He snaps and the other man’s face turns from shock to anger to derision. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?’ He jeers, pulling his lab away from Eddie and Peanut. ‘Take a fucking anger management class.’ He strides away before Eddie can respond and when he looks down, Peanut looks back up. He’s not usually one to assign human emotions to pets (unlike Richie, who feels it is his full time job to narrate Peanut’s inner life), but if he had to pick one now, it would be judgemental. 

‘I _ know _.’ He tells Peanut and she blinks back at him before tugging at the leash again. He feels his anger turn inwards and suddenly, he feels exhausted. It’s hard to see the progress he’s made on days like this and he feels like the steps he takes are tiny, hardly noticeable. He needs a win, he muses. A big step forward, a-

Peanut stops walking and yaps once. When Eddie looks up, he notices he’s in front of a hotdog cart. 

‘No.’ He says. ‘Peanut, _ no _.’ 

She whines and pulls at the leash again and the man working the cart smiles at him. 

‘It’s okay man, she can have a piece.’ He breaks off a small bit of hotdog and tosses it at Peanut, who catches it easily, devouring it in a fraction of a second. ‘You want one too?’ 

Sweat breaks out on Eddie’s back, under his armpits, the backs of his knees. The hotdogs are lying in still, lukewarm water, the onions pre sliced in a container that surely isn’t cool enough. There’s ketchup with bits dried on the cap and mustard from an open jar. _ Hell no_, Eddie thinks. 

‘Sure.’ Eddie says. ‘Just give me, I don’t know, what’s a regular one?’

‘One coming up.’ The man says. Eddie pays and in return receives a hotdog in a napkin. He stares at it like it’s due to explode until he notices the cart owner frowning at him. 

‘I’ll just… Eat it now, then.’ Eddie says, his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the cart owner nods slowly.

‘Yes.’ He says. ‘That is usually what one does with a hotdog.’ 

Eddie brings it to his face and looks at it. The bread looks a bit crumbly, like it’s been out for a few hours. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the cart owner staring at him, gearing up to ask him if something is wrong and in a sudden panic, Eddie stuffs a third of the hotdog in his mouth and starts chewing. 

It’s disgusting. There’s no question about it. It’s dry and soggy at the same time, onions too sharp and pickles too soft. The mustard stings his nose and he thinks he accidentally ate a piece of napkin with it. With great effort, he manages to swallow it. 

This is terrible. He needs to escape. There is no way he can eat the remainder of this thing. He considers dropping it near Peanut, but if he's being honest, he also doesn't want Peanut to be eating this monstrosity. She's a regular garbage can of a dog, snatching dropped food before it has a chance to hit the floor, but taste-wise this thing is on par with eating radioactive waste.

Then, it hits him. 

It tastes absolutely revolting. The _ taste _ is _ repulsive_. He hasn’t even thought about the germs in that cart, because he’s been to busy rating this hotdog on its culinary merits like some goddamn foodie. 

‘Thank you.’ He says to the cart owner with a very wide smile and then flees around the corner, where he considers trying another bite, but the moment he brings it up to his face, he's struck with the smell of hot dog water and almost dry-heaves. Nope, not going to happen. He drops the rest in a nearby trashcan and buys a tin of mints in a convenience store around the corner. 

‘This is a big moment for me.’ He tells Peanut and she rubs herself against his ankles. ‘I’ve had literal nightmares about being forced to eat something from a cart like this.’ 

Eddie lets himself be led home by Peanut, and as he opens the front door, she impatiently waits for him to remove the leash before trotting to one of her sleeping pillows and conking the fuck out. When Eddie puts away the leash, he realises he feels good. Maybe this was necessary, he thinks, a step way out of his comfort zone. He feels good, like he’s standing a little taller, like he can take on the world. Suddenly, an idea is taking form in his mind. He turns it over in his head a couple of times, wondering whether he wants to ride this wave straight out of his comfort zone, or if he should pull back a little. _ Might as well _, he thinks. 

'Richie!' He yells as he's hanging up his coat. 'I want to put my mouth on your dick.' 

When he walks into the living room, Richie is staring at him, wide eyed, his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. 

'Uh.' He says, and then, urgently. 'Bill, I gotta go.' 

Then: 'Yeah, dumbass, that was Eddie. Well, you heard the man, I have important business to get to.' 

He clicks off the phone and throws it on the couch, never breaking eye contact. 

'Are you-' He swallows thickly, 'are you sure?' 

'Yeah dickwad,' Eddie says fondly. 'That's why I said it. Bedroom?' 

'_Fuck yes _.' Richie moans, before taking his hand and dragging him there insistently. They're already kissing before they reach the bedroom, Richie’s hands sliding under his shirt into a bruising grip on his hips. Eddie narrowly avoids hitting the door post and guides them through the opening without releasing Richie. He licks into his mouth eagerly and Richie’s grip tightens for a moment, then releases. 

'How do you want to-' Richie begins, already sounding out of breath and Eddie pushes him down onto the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees between Richie’s spread legs. 

'Oh, Jesus.' Richie croaks, clenching and unclenching his hands. 

For a second, Eddie sits back on his heels, considering the practicalities, before thumbing Richie’s fly open and tugging it down a little. Richie's hands join his, both trembling, to push down his jeans and briefs. Richie is half-hard already and when Eddie takes his dick in his hand, Richie makes a broken sound. Eddie is a little unsure about how to proceed, but then Richie puts a hand on his jaw and when he looks up, his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, mouth slack in awe. He decides to just go for it and leans in, putting his tongue on the tip and wrapping his hand around the lower half. The taste is not entirely pleasant, but largely inoffensive and the sound that's ripped from Richie’s throat makes Eddie shudder a bit. 

'Oh, _fuuuuuck_. You look amazing.' Richie says, hoarsely, his hand sliding from Eddie's hand into his hair, other hand behind him on the blanket for support. 'I've been day dreaming about this moment for literal decades.' 

Eddie responds by sliding his lips down until his hand. He considers removing his hand to see if he can get deeper, but decides not to get too far ahead of himself. Spit leaks down onto his fingers and he moves his hand in tandem with his mouth, up when he pulls back and down when he moves in. It's a bit confusing at first, figuring out how to avoid teeth coming into contact with skin and where to put his tongue, but above him, Richie moans like he's dying, so something about it is working. The hand in his hair tugs lightly and suddenly, Eddie realises he is hard himself, his cock straining against his khakis. He takes his hand off Richie’s thigh and presses the heel of his hand against his fly. 

'Oh, fuck.' Richie whispers, tugging at his hair again until Eddie looks up at him. 'Are you getting off on this?' 

Eddie feels the tips of his ears burning, but nods and Richie’s grip on his hair tightens a fraction. 

'I'm not going to last.' Richie pants, his hips shifting on the bed as he's trying not to buck up in Eddie's mouth. Eddie cups his tongue under the head and receives a full body shudder from Richie in return. 'You're so fucking hot like this, Eds, you're a fucking natural.' 

Eddie moans against Richie’s dick and presses his hand harder against his fly when Richie makes a keening sound. 

'You gotta-' Richie warns, tugging Eddie's hair again in a way that goes straight to Eddie's dick, and he has to take a moment to press his eyes shut, afraid he's going to come in his pants like a high schooler. 'I'm gonna, Jesus, Eddie, I'm gonna come.' 

Eddie pulls off and looks up at Richie, who lets out a string of nonsense babbling intercut with moans before coming all over his own shirt. 

'Oh shit,' Eddie says hoarsely, looking at the mess on Richie’s stomach and chest. 'Your shirt-' 

'Who fucking cares.' Richie pants, leaning down to smash their mouths together. Eddie's harder than he's ever been in his life, so much blood rushing to his dick that he feels a little lightheaded. 

'Can I-' Richie asks insistently, leaning their foreheads together. 'Will you let me, to you?' 

'Yes.' Eddie pants out and Richie pumps his fist, whooping excitedly. Before he knows it, he's being dragged up by his arms to lie back on the bed, Richie crouched over him. For a moment, Richie leans down to kiss him deeply, before his pants are being opened and Richie shuffles down to swallow him to the root in one movement. 

'Jesus fucking- Richie!' Eddie shouts out, almost doubling over until Richie uses one arm over his midriff to press him against the bed. Eddie's arms land back on the pillow above him and he holds on for dear life as Richie sloppily goes to town on his dick. He holds out for maybe a minute more, but then Richie groans and the vibrations to his dick are enough to put him over the edge. 

'Fuck, I'm- I'm coming.' He manages to get out, but Richie hums and takes him in deeper, making Eddie moan, low and deep, before his dick twitches and he comes down Richie’s throat. 

'Can I kiss you?' Richie asks, as he's slid up to lie half on top of Eddie and Eddie nods. He leans in, and it's not really kissing, more lazily sliding their lips together as they're both trying to get their breath back. They're both still almost fully dressed, pants and shirts haphazardly shoved aside, like they're teenagers needing to get their rocks off between classes. Suddenly, Eddie thinks about the two of them in high school, in another universe, maybe, fooling around under the bleachers, or shushing each other while making out in Eddie's bedroom. They could've been doing this for literal decades. It's a little heartbreaking, sometimes, the time they missed, but he's glad he gets to experience it now. Not a lot of movies are about sad forty year olds turning their lives around. Eddie thinks that maybe there should be. It's not like finding the love of your life is something strictly being undertaken by hot twenty-somethings. 

'What brought this on?' Richie asks curiously, breaking the kiss to bump their noses together. 'Woke up with an urge for cocksucking?' 

'I ate a streetcart hotdog on the way here.' Eddie answers and Richie considers it for a for a second. 

'Huh.' He responds and then holds up his hand. 'Up top, Edsie. Come on, gimme five, it's a big moment.' 

'Thank you for treating it with the appropriate gravity.' Eddie responds dryly, but lifts his hand to tap it against Richie’s. They're lying silently for a second, then Eddie rolls on his side and looks at Richie, hair sticking up and shirt all rumpled, with bits of jizz drying all over it, pants still open and half pulled off. His face is still a little red, lips wet and parted.

'You look slutty.' Eddie informs him, matter of factly and Richie snorts. 

'Thanks, babe.' He sighs and pulls the shirt over his head, throwing it to the laundry basket and missing spectacularly. 'You don't look so bad yourself, I'll be having sweet dreams tonight about the way you came in, all frantic, prowling for dick.' 

'Ugh,' Eddie says, but he feels himself going a bit red. 'How is sucking your dick more annoying than I imagined it.' 

'Wait,' Richie says delightedly, rolling himself on top of Eddie again. 'You _ imagined _it?' 

'Very realistically.' Eddie responds, halfheartedly slapping at Richie as he tries to stick his nose in Eddie's sweaty neck. 'I imagined having to stop halfway through to threaten to bite your dick off if you didn't stop talking.' 

'Eddieee,' Richie whines from where he's buried his face in the crook of Eddie's shoulder. 'That's so _ romantic _.' 

They stay cuddled up for twenty more minutes or so, until Eddie drags them into the shower and they settle on the couch for a movie they don't watch. Richie wants to discuss what happened, powering through Eddie's exasperated affirmations that _ yes_, he is very much fine with what happened and _ no_, this hasn't given him a lifelong aversion against sucking dick. After that, it seems like a dam has been burst and they end up making out on the couch later that night, Richie spreading lube over his fingers as Eddie hisses that if he gets even a single drop on the couch, he'll smother Richie with a pillow. After that, it takes him a good long while to find words again, until Richie’s got him bent over the armrest, talking a mile a minute in his ear. 

'Who's looking slutty now, eh Eds, God, look at you, bent over for me, you're a fucking sight to behold, look at how red you are, does it embarrass you how much you're gagging for it, hmm, Eds, tell me what you want, how can I make this good for you, fuck, let me hear you, come for me, I can't hold it anymore, come on Eds, I, fuck, _ fuck-_'

The smug look on Richie’s face afterwards doesn't even falter when Eddie throws him a wet rag and tells him to get the jizz off the couch, ears still burning bright red. He's in an infuriatingly good mood the rest of the night and Eddie makes him be the little spoon that night, just so he doesn't have to look at the self-satisfied grin on Richie’s face.

The next morning, he takes his revenge, kneeling between Richie’s open legs, keeping a slow and steady pace as he presses his face against Richie’s temple, whispering 'I love looking at you like this, you look beautiful, I love you, Richie, fuck, you feel so good under me' until Richie is a whimpering mess, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he's trembling underneath Eddie. He comes before Eddie has fully wrapped his hand around his dick and Eddie buries his sweaty face in Richie’s chest before shuddering to orgasm himself. 

Afterwards, when they're cleaning themselves up, Richie catches his eye in the bathroom mirror and scowls at him. 

'You're a terrible man.' He says to Eddie. 

'You love it.' Eddie replies sunnily, pecking Richie on the cheek before he turns back to his day cream and Richie looks up at the ceiling before letting out a massive sigh. 

They putter around the house aimlessly for the rest of the day, Richie packing his bag for an overnight work trip as Eddie's chopping carrots and bell peppers for a giant pot of pasta sauce. There's about three hours left before Richie has to get a cab to the airport, and when Eddie hears him cursing to himself and opening the washing machine, he rolls his eyes. 

'Look in the dryer, I put in a load this morning.' He yells, ignoring Richie’s answering 'You sure did!', followed by hysterical laughter. A minute later, he comes out with a clean shirt and looks at Eddie appreciatively. 

'Look at you, we'll make a proper housewife out of you after all.' 

'Slap my ass and die.' Eddie warns, putting a sprig of basil in the pot and Richie sticks out his tongue. 

'I've got meeting till two and then a flight at four thirty, so we can have dinner together if the traffic isn't too bad.' 

'Traffic in LA is always bad.' Eddie muses, 'but I'll wait up.' 

'Nice, you got any plans for tomorrow?' 

'Probably go over to Bill's for coffee, then I'll see what happens.' 

For a moment, Richie stares at him with a dopey grin on his face, then he presses Eddie against the counter and kisses him. It's over before Eddie can react, Richie stepping back to look at him again.

'I'm really proud of you, Eds.' He says and Eddie squirms a little under the force of Richie’s honest attention. 'I’ve always loved you, even when you were a wound up little bastard, but it’s been good, seeing you get better, de-stress a little.’ 

‘Get off me, you big lump.’ Eddie says, because he’d rather die than have a honest conversation about the various neuroses he’s been trying to combat. Opening up twice a week in therapy is more than enough at this time, thank you very much. 

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Richie says. ‘I won’t mention it again. You wanna nap until the taxi comes?’

_Jesus_, Eddie thinks. They’ve turned into a boring, domestic couple in a matter of weeks, with their dog and their afternoon naps and their cleaning schedule. 

‘Sure.’ He turns off the heat under his pasta sauce and they settle down on the couch, Richie resting his head in Eddie’s lap and dozing off almost immediately. It’s kind of perfect. 

* * *

The next morning, Eddie wakes up in a big, empty bed and promptly comes to the realisation that he doesn’t like it. The feeling keeps nagging at him all morning, during his coffee appointment with Bill and after he leaves, wandering around the neighbourhood for a bit. He misses Richie, he realises, halfway during his walk. The feeling is similar to when Richie had the flu one winter and was out of school for two weeks. Eddie hadn't realised he was being more unbearable than usual until Stan had pulled him apart one afternoon to tell him in a very stern way, to get his fucking shit together and go visit Richie if he missed him so much. 'Germs!' Eddie had yelled at Stan and Stan had rolled his eyes at him so mercilessly that Eddie had put on three surgical masks to visit Richie that afternoon and almost passed out on the way there because he could barely get enough oxygen.

He’s been getting used to waking up together, reaching out at night and having Richie blindly grasp his hand and pull it close to him in his sleep. He’s been getting used to Richie making buckets of coffee in the morning and his incessant talking after he’s gotten up when Eddie is still stumbling around the house like a zombie. He’s in love with Richie. Well, okay, he knew that already, but he’s like - in love-love. It’s disgusting, not to mention _ embarrassing_. Eddie is a grown man, he can survive a day without his boyfriend. He needs to tamp this shit down before he does something rash. 

One thing leads to another and before he knows it, Eddie is in the food court of a shopping mall, staring at a ring box containing a stupidly expensive golden band sitting innocently on the table in front of him with so much terror it’s almost like he’s afraid it’ll snap open and bite him. 

_ Idiot _ . Eddie thinks, anxiously. _ Idiot, idiot, idiot. _

This is terrible. He’s a fool. He needs someone to talk some sense into him. He quickly cycles through all of the Losers in his head (_ Bev - will probably laugh at him, in a loving way, but he’s really fragile right now. Bill - for all his good qualities, is very bad at marriage and will want to talk about the relationship therapy he’s been having. Ben - too nice, will not call Eddie a moron to his face. _) and calls Mike. When Mike answers, he tries to say something about how New Mexico is effervescent and Eddie interrupts him immediately. 

‘I bought a ring!’ He hisses into the phone, looking shiftily around him as if it’s a possibility that Richie has gotten on a plane back with the express purpose of getting a shopping mall taco with extra e.coli. Wait, that doesn’t sound entirely unlike Richie. He swipes the ring into his backpack, almost knocking over the coffee he bought for appearance’s sake but has no intention of drinking and lowers his voice. ‘I went into a store and bought a goddamn engagement ring, Mike!’ 

‘Uh.’ Mike responds, before sighing wistfully. ‘I’m so happy for you!’

Oh, no. He forgot. Mike’s a _ romantic _. 

‘I mean, it’s soon, but like, you’ve been pining for each other for literal decades, so… Wait a minute! Are you calling to ask me to be your best man?’ 

‘Mike, no.’ Eddie pleads, desperately. 

‘Oh, yeah, you probably want to ask Bill. You guys have known him the longest, that makes sense.’ Mike sounds a little resigned and Eddie, horribly, feels guilty. 

‘Of course you’d be my best man, idiot.’ He says fondly, before shaking his head. ‘Wait, no, that’s not what this call is about. You need to tell me I’m being stupid. I need you to tell me return it and not ruin this thing I have with Richie by asking him to marry me two months into dating.’ He takes a deep, shaky breath. ‘I need you to tell me to be fucking normal for a change.’ 

Mike’s silent for a moment and Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose hard enough to leave red spots. He wishes he had his inhaler again, full of placebo powder that could maybe work if he pretends hard enough that the sinking feeling in his chest is an asthma attack.

‘I’m… not going to do that?’ Mike says, unsure of himself, before repeating it in a stronger voice. ‘No, fuck off, I’m not going to do that. You two have something special, something once in a lifetime and you being your crazy fucking self is what got you that. Don’t fucking ask me to insult you.’

He takes a deep breath and Eddie winces as the tinny voice reaming him out goes loud enough to make a young woman at the table next over raise an eyebrow over her book. 

‘You’re a overthinking, fussy, little bastard.’ Mike yells at him through the phone. ‘And we _ love _ that about you! It’s why we appreciate you so much. But if you find someone that makes you do things like that, cross the country to move in with him, and buying a ring after two months, you should drop on your knees literally tomorrow and ask him to spend the rest of your life with him! And then marry him! Fuck, Eddie, _ of course _ I’m not going to tell you to be normal, I love you, you _ moron _.’ 

Eddie stares at the phone with big eyes as the girl at the other table is muffling her laughs into her copy of _ I’ll Be Gone in the Dark _ and then weakly raises the phone back to his ear. 

‘Aww, Mike.’ He says, feebly.

‘Yeah,’ Mike says, already back to his sunny self. ‘Don’t you forget it. Now, are you going to let me tell you about New Mexico?’ 

‘Yeah, man,’ Eddie feels very warm inside, even though Mike was being kind of screamy about his love for him. ‘Tell me all about the rock you just saw.’ 

‘Ha ha,’ Mike responds. ‘But seriously, I just found a rock and when I turned it over, boom, fossil! Okay, but that’s not the point. So there I was, at Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks and turns out-’

Eddie listens to Mike describing more rocks in increasing detail while he digs the ring box out of his backpack again. He pops it open and the unassuming gold band gleams in the harsh light of the food court. _ Richie would love this_, he thinks and when he closes it again, he’s smiling. Looks like he’s got a dinner reservation to make. 

\-------

‘LA is a hellscape and everyone who chooses to live here is contributing to a sick culture of celebrity worship that tramples on the regular man.’ Eddie’s pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulders as he finishes angry-scrubbing the coffee maker reservoir and rinses it out viciously. In his ear, he hears Bill mhm-ing absent-mindedly, which is not exactly the ‘Yeah, man! Fuck the system!’ he was hoping for. 

‘Can’t get a d-dinner reservation, huh?’ Bill says mildly and Eddie scowls at the dish towel in his hands and then breaks. 

‘Every fancy restaurant is booked fucking solid for _ months _,’ he whines pathetically. ‘How is that a sustainable business model?’

‘You tell me,’ Bill says, and then, in a low voice. ‘Look, b-being a horror writer doesn’t really g-get any pull, but, I am willing to see w-what I can do, if you tell me what it’s f-for.’ 

‘No.’ Eddie says. ‘It’s a secret.’ 

‘Okay,’ Bill says. ‘Have f-fun at Taco Bell.’ 

‘Ugh.’ Eddie knows when he is defeated. He’s been a risk analyst for decades and he knows the risk of having to propose to Richie at a food truck is steadily rising. ‘Okay, you asshole. I _ might _have bought an engagement ring. Happy now?’

‘Very.’ Bill says and Eddie can almost hear him smile through the phone. It’s nauseating. All his friends are saps. ‘Alright, I’ll s-see what I can do.’

Half an hour later, his phone pings with a location and a reservation time, then a follow up text that says _ promise this is a good one but couldn’t get anything except day before Vegas weekend so maybe check if ur not stealing Ben’s thunder. love u! good luck! v v happy for u two! _

‘Jesus.’ Eddie says out loud. At this point, he might as well get a fucking billboard with his intentions on it. Okay, let’s get this fucking over with. He dials Ben, who picks up after two rings. 

‘Hiya, Eddie, how you doing?’

‘Let’s cut the shit, Benjamin.’ Eddie barks at him, planning on having the element of surprise at his side. ‘Are you or are you not proposing to Beverly in Vegas?’

‘Uh.’ Ben answers, very clearly confused. ‘No? That would be _ extremely soon _ , and we’re… Wait.’ He pauses and Eddie can almost hear the wheels in his head turning and clicking. ‘Are _ you _proposing in Vegas?’

_ Goddammit_. Eddie thinks. _ Ben was always the smart one_. 

‘No.’ He says snootily. ‘That would be _ dumb_. I’m proposing the day before we’re going. So if I get there sans Richie you better be fucking nice to me.’ 

‘He’ll probably say yes.’ Ben says, thoughtfully. ‘You should ask Bev, they’re basically the same person. She’ll know.’ 

‘Sure, go ask her.’ Eddie says. Might as well let everyone know. God, he hopes Richie says yes, otherwise it’s going to be real fucking embarrassing. 

Ben returns to the phone a few seconds later and starts talking, but it’s just as quickly cut off by Bev snatching the phone from his hands and pressing it to her own ear. 

‘Of course he’s going to say yes, you dumb bitch.’ Bev says to him. ‘What are you wearing?’ 

‘Uh, I don’t know? Black suit, white shirt, maybe a tie? Is that appropriate?’

‘Sure.’ Bev says, her voice very clearly giving away that he’s said something extremely stupid. ‘If you’re going to a fucking funeral after. Alright, hang up the phone, go upstairs to your wardrobe and video call me back. I’m clearing out my afternoon.’

‘I know how to fucking dress myself, Bev.’ 

‘Please let me do this for you.’ Bev pauses and then counters. ‘We are considering hiring a contractor for the beach house, get an open plan kitchen, maybe a veranda. I’ll let you do the contract.’

‘Ah, _ yes_.’ Eddie knows a good offer when he sees it. ‘I’m going to slap him with so many hidden late completion penalties he’s going out of business if he goes over deadline by a minute.’ 

‘That’s my boy.’ Bev says. ‘Now go upstairs. Let the master work.’ 

* * *

Listeriosis is a serious infection caused by the germ Listeria monocytogenes. People usually become ill with listeriosis after eating contaminated food. The disease primarily affects pregnant women, newborns, older adults, and people with weakened immune systems. It’s rare for people in other groups to get sick with Listeria infection. Listeriosis can cause a variety of symptoms, depending on the person and the part of the body affected. Usually, symptoms include: 

  * Blah blah blah
  * What are you looking at me like that for 
  * It's always diarrhoea and a fever
  * Achy muscles, nausea, blah blah

Effects of invasive listeriosis can include:

  * Look, this is just as little fun for me as it is for you
  * Death
  * Death
  * Death
  * Or not, you're not a pregnant woman, so maybe you'll be fine
  * Maybe not, what do I know
  * I'm putting in on the list
  * Death
  * It's on there
  * What the fuck are you gonna do about it? 

* * *

Inside, the restaurant is very, very obviously fancy, without being obnoxious about it. Waiters are gliding around, silently refilling glasses and clearing tables without guests noticing. No white linen tablecloths, but a rougher fabric, in light grey, green or blue, and sturdy, stemless wine glasses on them. 

‘I wonder if they serve tacos here,’ Richie muses, looking at the specials written in chalk above the bar. ‘Oh, wow, no shit, there's something with cured salmon and a lineseed biscuit, that’s a fucking taco, baby.’ 

‘Stop talking about tacos.’ Eddie hisses to Richie and then, when a man gives Richie a cynical once-over, throws the man such a withering glare that it makes him flinch. ‘Wait, no, fuck that guy, talk about tacos more and do it louder.’ 

Eddie keeps nervously turning the ring box around in his pocket as they’re led to their table, not quite in a secluded corner, but in a quiet area of the restaurant. He insists on taking Richie’s coat to hand to the waiter, tells Richie to shut the fuck up when he pretends to swoon with fluttering eyelashes and then tries to work off his own coat while holding Richie’s. It’s not working exceptionally well, and then, as he shrugs off his coat with his other hand occupied, the angle _ somehow _ manages to work out in the worst way possible, time seemingly frozen around Eddie as he sees the ring box slip loose from his pocket and fall to the ground. It falls on the wooden floor with a dull _ thud _that Eddie, logistically, knows isn’t in fact reverberating through the entire restaurant, but also sounds to Eddie like a fucking shotgun just went off next to him. He watches, still unable to react lest he tip Richie off, as the ring box bounces once and lands, very visibly, a yard away from their table. In slow-motion, he sees Richie’s head turn around from his peripheral vision, but at the last possible moment, in one smooth motion, the woman at the table next to them swipes her fork off the table and bends down to pick it up, hiding the ring box from sight.

‘What was that?’ Richie asks, a fraction of a second later and the woman cheerily answers: ‘Oh, no worries, dropped my fork.’ 

‘Let me help you.’ Eddie shouts, trying to hide the panic in his voice, and bends with the coats in his hand. The woman slides the ring box in his coat pocket, hidden from Richie’s line of sight and Eddie picks up the fork and makes a big show of handing it over. 

‘Thank you!’ The woman says, the corner of her mouth twitching.

‘No, thank _ you_.’ Eddie says, trying to get his breathing under control and when he turns around Richie raises an eyebrow. 

‘Did you just thank _ her_? Wait, are you okay? You have crazy eyes, did you spot a dishwasher without a hair net again?’

‘I’m going to hang the coats.’ Eddie croaks out, walking past the waiting server.

_ Okay, not a great beginning_, Eddie thinks to himself as he hands their jackets to someone near the coat room. _ But Richie didn’t notice, the restaurant is great and they have an A+ rating from the local food safety inspector. Get your act together, Eds_. He rolls his shoulders and walks back, where Richie has struck up a conversation with the woman at the next table while her date is in the bathroom. 

‘Eds, get over here!’ He says enthusiastically. ‘This is Luca and she used to be a _street magician_! How awesome is that?’

‘Very awesome.’ Eddie agrees as he sits down. ‘Sleight of hand?’ 

‘Mostly, yeah.’ Luca says, mouth twitching again as she waggles her hands in a showy gesture. ‘Magic fingers. Hey, enjoy your meal!’

‘Thanks, you too!’ Richie beams at her and then turns to Eddie, mouthing _ ‘street magician!_’ at him. Then, he looks at Eddie properly and raises his eyebrows.

‘You look nice.’ He says. ‘New shirt?’

‘No.’ Eddie lies through his teeth, not keen on tipping Richie off before he's properly sat down. ‘I’ve had this for ages.’ Bev finally allowed him to wear a black suit, but made him go out and buy a dark red shirt for under it. 

When the waitress gets back, Eddie points at random things on the menu, barely noticing what he’s ordering. The plan is pretty simple, eat dinner, wait until dessert, pop the question, go home and fuck like rabbits, get up not too late to drive to Vegas. Now he just has to make small talk for one and a half hours and keep it together until dessert.

‘Oh!’ Richie says, suddenly. ‘I called Monica, you know, the deep cleaning lady? It’s a little short notice, but since we’ll be out of the house and Peanut is staying with the dog sitter, she said she could swing by and-’

‘Oh, fuck _ you_.’ Eddie interrupts him. This is just plain unfair, he’s only human. He sinks down on one knee next to the table and fumbles the ring box out of his pocket. 

'Please don't laugh at me.' Are the first words from his mouth and then: 'No, wait, shit. I prepared a whole speech. Okay, Rich… Richie - Richard? I know it's soon, but I spent my whole life - oh my God, are you _ crying _?' 

'No, fuck off, I'm not crying.' Richie responds, very obviously crying. 

'You're totally crying!' Eddie says, gleefully, momentarily forgetting he is very much in the middle of proposing. 'I fucking knew you were just pretending not to be a giant sap, I saw you sniffling at that trailer for the lost dog movie!' 

'I have allergies.' Richie says primly. 

'You literally fucking told me_ yesterday _, that you think allergies are a choice.' 

They're interrupted by Luca, who loudly clears her throat until Eddie glances over and then gives a very pointed look to the ring box in his hands. 

'Oh,' Eddie says. 'Shit, right. Richie, I know it's quick, but I've never loved someone like I love you. You've taken root in me, there never was anybody else and there won't be. There's no one that knows me like you and still loves me, and I want to spend the rest of my life trying not to laugh at your terrible Irish Cop impression and yelling at you for leaving fucking half empty coffee cups around the house like you don't own a 2000 dollar dishwasher.'

When he looks up, Richie is still crying, but he's also smiling at Eddie, radiantly. His eyes are merry and hopeful and Eddie thinks, suddenly, that loving him feels like coming home. 

'Ask me,' He says. 'Ask me, Eds, so I can say yes.' 

For a moment, Eddie feels himself getting choked up too, but he valiantly gets the words out of his throat. 

'Will you marry me?' 

'Yes.' Richie says, thickly. 'I accept your offer of getting screamed at for the rest of my life for using a sponge incorrectly.' 

'You always scratch up the wine glasses with the rough side.' Eddie says before he slides the ring on Richie’s finger and gets up to kiss him. Even though the angle is awkward, Eddie still half kneeling and Richie bent forward, they slide together easily. Their bodies know each other, effortlessly, Eddie clinging to Richie unselfconsciously and Richie, in return, pressing him close. 

‘This is a very good restaurant.’ Eddie pants as they break apart. ‘Really a shame we won’t be eating here.’ 

‘Yeah, sorry Eds.’ Richie says. ‘If we stay here for one more minute I’m going to drag you into that coat room.’ 

Eddie untangles himself from Richie and turns around to Luca, who gives him a thumbs up. 

‘Congrats! You seem very, well, suited for each other.’

‘Thanks,’ Eddie says, a little dazedly. ‘I’m going to give you my debit card and Richie’s business card. My PIN is 0307, please pay for whatever we just ordered and your own meal, please don’t rob me and just send it back to this address.’

He hands his debit card over and digs a card from his pocket before turning around and marching Richie out of the restaurant. 

‘Oh, wow, Eds.’ Richie sighs. ‘That’s so romantic, I can’t believe you just gave your debit card to a stranger, you absolute dumbass.’ 

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Eddie says, waving a very confused waiter aside to get their coats. ‘If she steals all my money you'll have to provide for me.’

‘Gladly,’ Apparently, Richie ordered a Lyft inside, because he waves over a car and gently urges Eddie in. ‘you’ll be in the finest silks and eating nothing but caviar.’ 

‘I fucking hate caviar.’ Eddie says, pulling Richie in after him. ‘Now shut up and kiss me.’ 

* * *

The next morning, Eddie wakes up exceptionally well-rested, which turns out to be a side effect of getting expertly fucked into a mattress the night before. His phone tells him they have to be in the car in about an hour, which means he doesn’t really have time to drag Richie into the shower for a second round. Shower sex is a funny thing for him, because his risk analyst side tells him it’s slippery and more people die in the shower every year than any other room, but his hypochondriac side loves that it turns sex into what’s basically a self-cleaning act. Eventually, a third side (the horny one) wins out and he drags Richie into the bathroom and drops on his knees on the tiles.

‘Eddie, I - _ hnnnggg Jesssuuuus Christ _.’ Richie tells him before holding on for dear life to the shower door. 

Afterwards, Eddie frowns as he’s getting dressed while Richie’s standing next to him, still having the slightly vacant look of someone who just had their brains sucked out of their dick and hasn’t recovered. 

‘My knees hurt.’ Eddie tells him. ‘I don’t think shower sex is meant for people over twenty-five.’ 

‘I’ll buy you a shower pillow.’ Richie says, immediately. ‘Is that a thing? I’ll pay someone to invent it.’ 

When Eddie finishes dressing, Richie’s still standing in front of his closet with a dazed look on his face. He hands Richie a clean shirt and gently takes his face in his hands. 

‘Sex makes you stupid.’ He tells Richie, before pecking him on the lips and letting him pull on his clothes.

‘Yeah, it does.’ Richie sighs happily. ‘Can’t wait for us to get back from Vegas so you can fuck me absolutely braindead, _ fiancé _.’ 

Eddie snorts and finishes packing, gently urging Richie downstairs and into the car. Richie insists on driving, which means they’ll probably make it until the end of the block until Eddie forces them to swap. Instead of starting the car, Richie motions to the glove box. 

‘Can you open it for me? There’s something at the back that I need.’

‘Sure.’ Eddie says. ‘You’re counting on getting pulled over already? The way you drive, that’s-’

He falls silent. In the back of the glove compartment is a ring box. It’s a little dusty and contains a golden ring, with a thin, rectangular black stone laid in over the entire width of the band. 

‘Got it three days after I told you I loved you.’ Richie says. ‘I knew it was safe there because you never let me drive. Was planning on asking you after a year, at first. Then I figured, six months.’

‘Still beat you.’ Eddie says, but his voice is breaking a little. Richie laughs at that and reaches over to get the ring from the box. 

‘You sure did.’ He says. ‘Can I put it on you?’

Eddie nods and Richie puts it on his finger and leans over to kiss him. For a moment, Eddie considers dragging him back into the house, but they’re already very late and the chance both of them can get it up for a second time this morning is infinitesimal. 

‘This is very sweet.’ Eddie says, swallowing thickly. ‘Are you going to let me drive now?’

‘There’s the neurotic I know and love.’ Richie snorts. ‘Sure, move over.’ 

As is now almost tradition, they’re the last two people to arrive at the Loser’s club meeting. They quickly pop over to their hotel to drop off their stuff and then join just in time to catch the first bottles opening. When they walk in, Richie drops his coat in the middle of the table and gets ready to make a big announcement, but then he sees the way everyone is looking at Eddie with anticipation and turns around. 

‘Did you tell all of them you were planning to propose?’ He asks Eddie.

‘Not, willingly.’ Eddie answers and then: ‘Wait. Did _ you _tell all of them you bought a ring?’

‘Yeah,’ Richie says and starts laughing. ‘I can’t keep a secret to save my life, so everyone knew I bought a ring, that I was planning on asking you after a year, _ and _that I revised my plans to six months after a week.’ 

‘All of you are terrible people.’ Eddie tells the group. ‘None of you could have told me this when I was whining at you on the phone last week?’

‘Aww, babe.’ Richie says. ‘You thought I’d say no? I’ve literally not had eyes for anyone but you and your mother. Now if you find out you have a long lost brother-’ 

‘Keep talking and die lonely.’ Eddie warns him and Bev raises her glass. 

‘Glad to see the happy couple.’ She says. ‘Now sit down so we can celebrate your engagement.’ 

It all starts respectable enough. They’re talking, sipping wine and laughing, like normal forty year olds who are planning on getting lightly buzzed before getting in bed at eleven. Then, somewhere during dinner, Bill makes an offhand comment about east coast drinking culture being inferior to west coast drinking culture and Bev takes it very personally. The following half hour quickly turns into a head to head shots contest where Bev drinks Bill soundly under the table, ending in Bill puking in a trashcan and all of them getting the friendly request to please pay the check and leave the restaurant. 

‘Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.’ Richie pumps his fist as they leave. ‘Bill, don’t think for one fucking second that throwing up gets you out of the rest of the evening.’

They get kicked out of a second place when Mike and Richie start singing Shania Twain at the top of their lungs and a third place when Eddie and Bev start screaming at a man who made a snide remark at Bill, who has been alternating drinking and puking evenly for the past few hours. At four a.m., they end up wandering near the Strip, all of them somewhere between lightly smashed and absolutely shit-faced. 

‘Oh!’ Bev says, ducking from under Richie’s arm, who was halfway through a reprise of _ You’re Still the One _ with Bev and Mike. ‘A chapel!’

She turns to Ben and gives him a look that’s so tender that Eddie feels like he has to look away. ‘Let’s get married!’

‘You don’t want to get married in Vegas.’ Ben says, looking back at her equally tenderly. ‘You want a beach wedding, remember?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Bev says, before turning around, a little wobbly. ‘You two should get married! You’re already engaged.’

‘I wish.’ Richie snorts, releasing Mike to sling an arm around Eddie. ‘I don’t think this one would like a drunken Vegas wedding.’ 

For a second, Eddie thinks about it. Strangely enough, he hasn’t really thought about the actual process of _ marrying _Richie, just felt bone deep that he wanted a way to bind himself to Richie, to have a tangible sign of their intentions. He’d marry Richie if it was a five minute affair during a lunch break, he thinks. This, a drunken night with all of their friends, on the opposite coast from Derry, seems oddly, well, appropriate. 

‘I want to do it.’ Eddie says, and then, when Richie just frowns at him, louder. ‘I said let’s do it, Richie.’ 

‘You want to get married in Vegas?’ Richie asks him, incredulously. 

‘Yeah, so what if I do.’ He grabs Richie by the face and forces him to bend down until he’s on Eddie’s level. ‘Now stop being a little bitch and marry me.’ 

‘Whoo!’ Bev yells. ‘That’s the spirit! I’m going to see if they have someone available to do the wedding.’ 

‘Oh, wait.’ Ben says. ‘I think I’m ordained in the state of Nevada.’ 

‘What?’ Bev turns to look at him. ‘_Why_?’ 

‘I had a work retreat and two colleagues were-.’ Ben says, just as Mike says. ‘Who cares, it’s obviously meant to be, let’s check if they’re open.’ 

The Losers race into the chapel, leaving Eddie and Richie on the street. 

‘Are we doing this?’ Richie asks him, a dopey smile on his face and Eddie smiles back at him. 

'Is this a good idea?' He asks, giving Richie an out, saying he doesn't want to get married half drunk at four in the morning when Bill can't stop puking long enough to give a speech. 

Richie looks at him and shrugs. 

'It could very well be a bad idea.' He says honestly. 'But it's the only idea I've ever had.' 

Eddie stares at him. 

'You can't say that shit to me, dude.' He tells Richie. 'Now you have to marry me.' 

‘Come in, you guys!’ Mike yells, appearing in the doorway. ‘We got everything set up, it’s extremely concerning how easy it is to get married when you’re shitfaced.’

Richie holds out his hand and Eddie takes it. They go inside and after remarkably little signing of documents and handing over credit cards, they are left alone in the chapel. Richie immediately claims Bev and Eddie sets up Mike at his side, Ben and Bill in the front. 

‘Oh.’ Mike says. ‘Rings. Give ‘em here, you’ll get them back in a minute.’

‘Okay.’ Ben says. ‘I forgot everything I’m supposed to do, but we’ll just see if it holds up outside Vegas and if it doesn’t, we’ll redo it when we’re sober. Agree?’

A chorus of approval sounds and Ben takes a deep breath, but before he can start, Bill puts a hand on his shoulder. 

‘I n-need to say-‘ Bill pales a little, but powers through. ‘A-a few words. I’ve known R-Richie and Eddie for almost my e-entire life and those two together a-are responsible for eighty percent of my s-stresslines.’

‘Hey!’ Eddie says, just as Richie says: ‘Um, I’m _ pretty _sure I can take credit for all of them.’ 

‘Now we a-all knew Richie carried a torch for E-Eddie since he was out of d-diapers.’ 

‘Age twelve.’ Eddie says solemnly and Bev reaches past Richie to fist bump him. 

‘But I also k-knew Eddie had a crush on Richie, b-because he once came to me and Stan when he was t-thirteen and s-said it was unfair-‘

‘No.’ Eddie says. ‘Bill, don’t you fucking dare.’

‘I don’t know this story.’ Richie says. ‘Billiam, keep going.’

For a moment, it seems like Bill is going to puke again and Eddie gets ready to thank whatever higher power there is for this divine intervention, but then Bill swallows thickly and continues.

‘He said it was u-unfair that a person as annoying as R-Richie was winning at puberty. And Stan and I t-thought, in what w-world is Richie winning at a-anything, so I asked him to e-explain.’

Bill turns to Eddie, who is hoping that he’s glaring hard enough to disintegrate Bill on the spot. He’s smiling at Eddie, who wonders why they all thought Bill was so fucking wonderful during their childhoods, because this man, standing here, remains of bile visible on his shirt, is clearly evil.

‘And you have t-to remember that Richie went through a-all the stages of puberty. Tall and s-skinny, tall and kinda chubby, h-hairy, you name it. T-turns out that little E-Eddie over here had been thinking t-to himself all summer that this coke b-bottle glasses wearing, greasy, h-hairy motherfucker was extremely alluring to a-all of us, and because it was s-such an indisputable truth, I guess we’d s-simply never felt the need to d-discuss it?’

‘Oh my god, Eddie.’ Richie says, eyes beatific. ‘I was nobody's type as a teenager, I can’t believe this.’ 

‘I will kill all of you and make it look like an accident.’ Eddie threatens. ‘Don’t think I won't.’

‘He was, Eddie.’ Bev says. ‘I loved that little gangly, buck-toothed idiot like my own brother, but he was so weird-looking.’ 

‘He really was.’ Ben adds, then puts a comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder. ‘You grew out of it though.’

‘I think it’s cute.’ Mike says. ‘You thought Richie was handsome, Richie thought you were straight.’ 

‘I was straight-passing.’ Eddie says loftily. ‘Ugh, stop looking at me all pitiful, I fooled Richie at least.’ 

‘Uh-oh.’ Bill says, taking a step back to dry heave violently. Everyone holds their breath for a second, but then he gets back up. ‘Okay, let’s move this along, I don’t have long before I’m blowing chunks again.’

‘Does anyone else want to say a few words?’ Ben asks and Bev and Mike exchange looks. 

‘You two are the most annoying people I’ve ever met.’ Mike says. ‘That’s when I realised you two were meant for each other. But really, the two of you deserve a happy ending, and I’m glad you’ve found it with one another. I love you guys.’

‘In a way, you’re both marrying up.’ Bev follows up. ‘Which I think, is the most you can ask for in a relationship. I’m so happy for both of you.’ 

‘Do any of the grooms have vows?’

Richie motions at Eddie to go ahead and he clears his throat. He hasn’t prepared anything, so it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. Then, he sees Richie smile at him and it hits him. 

‘Richie, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. There’s nothing I look forward to more than chasing your eighty year old ass around the house for forgetting to wash your hands before dinner.’

‘Aww, babe.’ Richie says, ‘Oh, my turn? Okay - Eddie, Eds, my love, I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what than even meant. I love your wack ass habits, your dictatorial regime about shoes on the couch, your tiny, hot, little body and your big, brave heart. I love that you’re loyal, helpful and always ready to throw my shit back in my face. I would say that I also love how smart you are, but I called you cute five million times when I was a kid and you never noticed I had a big old boner for you so jury’s still out on that one. You’ve made my life immeasurably better and in return I promise to never make fun of your taste in music again. Wait no, I can’t keep that one. I promise to never make fun of your bathtub neck pillow again.’

‘Oh my god.’ Eddie says, weakly. ‘Where did _ that _come from? I want to - Ben, can I kiss him already?’

‘Well, no.’ Ben says. ‘But I’m not brave enough to stop you, so do what you want.’

Eddie’s hands are on Richie’s face before Ben’s finished talking. He kisses him deeply, slow and hot, teetering on the edge of too much for in public, until they reluctantly pull away. 

‘Let’s get it over with.’ Richie says to Ben and Eddie snorts. ‘There’s the romantic I know and love.’ 

‘I second what Richie said.’ Bill adds, looking more and more sickly pale by the second. 

‘Okay.’ Ben says. ‘Mike - ring me.’  
  
Mike hands over the rings and he, in turn, hands them to Richie and Eddie. 

‘Do you, Eddie Kaspbrak, take Richie Tozier, as your husband?’

‘I do.’ Eddie says and slides the ring on Richie’s finger.

‘Do you, Richie Tozier, take Eddie Kaspbrak, as your husband?’

‘Hell yes.’ Richie says, and puts the ring on Eddie.

‘I’m gonna skip over most of this.’ Ben says. ‘Because Bill looks extremely terrible. I pronounce you married. You may kiss your husband.’ 

‘I’m gonna dip you.’ Richie says to Eddie, who scowls at him. 

‘Don’t you fucking - oh, _ shit _ , do _ not _fucking drop me.’ Richie kisses him to shut him up, which seems fair, and in the background, Eddie can faintly hear whooping, followed by retching and shrieking. It’s a chaotic mess, this wedding of theirs, but it’s also kind of perfect. Richie licks into his mouth and now they’re very much over the edge of what’s acceptable for in public, but Eddie can’t bring it in him to care. He sneaks his hands under Richie’s jacket and lets them rest against his back, solid and warm under a thin layer of cotton. Sunshine is peeking through the windows, bathing everything in a golden light. For a moment, everything is soft, perfect and then Bill starts puking again. 

‘How do you still have anything left in you to throw up?’ Mike asks, curiously and Bill moans unhappily.

‘Well,’ Richie says, untangling himself from Eddie, who huffs at the loss of contact. ‘It has been a doozy, but if it’s all the same to you, I’m going back to the hotel to do unspeakable things to my husband for the foreseeable future.'

‘Fuck yeah, you are.’ Eddie agrees, and they leave as a chorus of boos, whooping and more dry-heaving sounds. When they’re far enough that Eddie figures no one can hear them, he turns to Richie.

‘Are you really, though?’ He asks and Richie barks out a laugh.

‘No, definitely not, I am very drunk and if I do any type of vigorous activity, I will vomit harder than Bill just did.’ 

‘Thank God.’ Eddie says, ‘I am one hundred percent sure I won’t be able to get it up, I'm very, very drunk.’ 

‘First thing tomorrow morning.’ Richie says, and he puts an arm around Eddie to pull him close. Eddie melts into the contact and as they walk back, a warm glow settles in his chest. He puts his arm around Richie’s waist as they walk into the hotel. ‘That better be a promise.’ 

* * *

A hangover is the experience of various unpleasant physiological and psychological effects following the consumption of alcohol. Typical symptoms include:

  * A headache
  * Drowsiness
  * Dry mouth
  * Dizziness
  * Seriously, what is up with that dry mouth? This tastes worse than the cod liver oil your mom would make you guzzle if you so much as coughed near her
  * Don’t open your mouth, the rat that died in there might fall out

Effects of a hangover can include:

  * It’s a hangover
  * You’ll live
  * Also, hey, you got married! Congratulations, dude! Let’s hope this one works out better than the last one
  * Don’t worry, it probably will. Or it won't! Put in the work and see where it goes
  * Oh, hey, Richie’s awake
  * It's a new day
  * Go brush your teeth and kiss your husband

**Author's Note:**

> \- come find me at crescenteluce.tumblr.com  
\- alternative title: 'how eddie kaspbrak gets his groove back'  
\- alternative summary: richie's love language is acts of service, eddie's love language is doing deeply stupid rash things in the name of love  
\- i have no idea how vegas weddings work and no desire to find out  
\- three week divorce - risk analyst exchange was based on a text post by tumblr user lovefromkelly  
\- age twelve joke was inspired by a text post by tumblr user hyrude


End file.
